Harry and the Messiah
by Forniphilia
Summary: We follow Harry Potter in his journey as a boy raised in a very poor neighbourhood as he learns that before he can save the world, he must learn his rightful place within it.


Author's notes: In this first chapter, we follow Harry as he explains what a piece of shit nigger he really is, and how Harry A.K.A Harambe was raised.

As with most great stories, this one begins behind a trash bin in Harlem. My mother, 11 years old at the time, was carrying out her usual Friday night job and fornicating with men of highest society. Men of all ages came to her for their nightly pleasures. One of those Fridays her client happened to be my father, although neither knew it then. Her surprise pregnancy proved to be good for business; a surprising amount of senior citizens will pay hefty sums to satisfy their "rape starving African child with kwashiorkor" fantasies.

But her success would not last long. Eventually she gave birth to me in a public bathroom. My skin at birth was so dark, she could barely see me on the ground among the excrement. When she did find me, she immediately knew what to name me in her final moments: Harry Potter. Potter was my father's alias, due to his extreme amounts of marijuana consumption. My mother chose the name Harry due to my massive quantities of pubic hair at birth (I hit puberty as a foetus). Her body was later eaten by the resident homeless.

Seconds before my mother's death, we were found by a drunk couple who planned to pleasure each other in the public bathroom. My mother had only enough time to tell them the story of my birth and my name before her heart gave way. My new father, Requis, adopted me to force his wife against divorce. We lived in a humble little cave, and they only told me the true story of my birth after I turned 8. Before that, I was told my parent's names were Jerome Potter and Lilyquisha Potter.

The only mystery of my birth was my strange case of vitiligo. I was born with the disease, which disappeared when I was four days old, but not before it left the symbol of a lightning penis on my forehead. My parents decided this was a prophecy of some sort; a strange owl flew into the cave on the night my vitiligo went away, with a strange address to a magic religion school named Hogwarts. For the next 13 years, I studied there every day about our god Dumbledore and how to channel his power in the form of spells through my massive black hard thick throbbing King Kong veiny wand.

Every day had the same routine; I prayed to the god Dumbledore that my cave allowed to me stay cool during summer, and kept me safe from night rapists and Jehovah's Witnesses. Every day on my way to the local public school, Hogwarts, I would play with the leaves on the ground. Sometimes the leaf piles would be taller than me! The cave was in a black neighbourhood of course, so trees were planted very close to each other for public transportation.

On the way to Hogwarts, there were many factories. The spectacle to be seen through the factory windows was the same: crying Chinese 8 year old workers, usually just a bad case of midlife crisis. Sometimes I could see local priests masturbating while they watched through the window.

As usual near the factories, the floor on the ground was littered with random piles of paper. But one perfect piece of parchment caught my eye. When I picked it up, I analysed closely the shiny mark. It was unmistakeable: Professor Snape's signature mark, a golden sativa leaf. A secret message from Snape!

Spell casting was unacceptable outside school premises, but a message from Snape could only be an emergency. After slight hesitation, I decided that the message was of a higher priority than public acceptance. So I opened my jean zipper and pulled out my massive black hard thick throbbing King Kong veiny wand and chanted "aparecium!". Snape's invisible semen ink began to magically glow on the parchment:

"Harry, come quickly to Diagon Alley. Do not go to Hogwarts.

This is of utmost importance."

I did not have to think about what to do next. Luckily that day I wore my stolen Jordans, and I could feel myself racing down the road towards the passage that separated the world of massive black hard thick throbbing King Kong veiny wands and spells through Dumbledore worship, and the world of common civilisation.

I ran through the portal between the civilised world and Mexico. My broom always lay just past the portal, for transportation the rest of the way until Hogwarts. On the ground was a newspaper; maybe I could find some clues?

MINI COOPER STOPPED ON WAY FROM MEXICO TO CIVILISED WORLD. FOUND TO BE LATINO SUPREMACIST QUE-QUE-QUE GANG MEMBERS.

4 CARS CRASHED IN MAIN MEXICAN HIGHWAY. 1,793 CASUALTIES.

14 PROSTITUTES FOUND RAPED AND MURDERED NEAR DIAGON ALLEY

HOGWARTS PROFESSOR "SNOOP" BELIEVED TO BE HIDING IN LOCAL ABANDONED BROTHEL WITH 3 REFUGEES

I knew it! Snoop's secret hideout!

When I got to the brothel, the door was locked. The usual alohomora spell didn't work on the lock, even with viagra. The key was around somewhere, among the bodies of prostitutes and trash and empty heroin syringes. Snoop would have hidden the key where no black or Mexican man would ever find it… but where….?

"Aha!" I found the key lying under some work boots. When I opened the door, inside I found professor Snoop and my friends.

Ron sat on an African-black chair. He read a small piece of parched paper, which gave him a false air of formality. It was a strange contrast to the "Bin Laden" tattoo on his forehead. His red-dyed chest hair was also shaved into the shape of a swastika. Hermione lied on the ground, assuming a fetal position; a common practice while she slit her wrists. The blood stained her white My Chemical Romance shirt, leaving a curiously phallic mark. When she looked up, it seemed she could barely see me through her Sharingan contact lenses. Dobby stood facing the other corner, furiously masturbating. He made wet, rhythmic sounds. His infinitely alpha attitude could have seduced even the likes of Mia Khalifah.

"You've taken too long, Harambe." snarled Snoop

"What's going on Snoop? Fill me in." Severus Snape didn't appreciate his cartel nickname, although they were better than the previous "Sentinel Snake" and "Seven-year-old Rape".


End file.
